


Souls for Bargain

by meshkol (ashernorton)



Series: Endgame Fix-It Fics [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Iron Man (Comics), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Soul Realm, Tony Stark Bingo 2019, fuck marvel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18615205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashernorton/pseuds/meshkol
Summary: Spoilers for Avengers: Endgame!Stephen makes a bargain.





	Souls for Bargain

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授翻】Souls for Bargain/灵魂谈判](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18689896) by [Clover_cherik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clover_cherik/pseuds/Clover_cherik)



> Fuck you Marvel, fuck you Russos, and fuck you Feige. Burn in hell.
> 
> Fix-it #1 of who-knows-how-many. Unbeta'd af. Fill T-3 for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Reunion.

Stephen takes a deep breath and opens a portal to the Soul Realm.

He goes inside after performing a spell to keep his feet dry and closes the portal behind him, leaving him ‘alone’ in this realm, and he begins to walk, not knowing where he’s going in this empty place but trusting his gut instinct to guide him nevertheless. He supposes that he could use a tracking spell, but despite taking years to gather the nerve for this while simultaneously doing research and fighting battles, he finds that he’s still not quite prepared for the confrontation.

He couldn’t look into the futures of this realm so he’s flying blind, he knows – the Time Stone is powerful, yes, but it can’t interfere with the realities of the other stones. He doesn’t know how this is going to go or what to expect, and while he would make the same decision again in giving up the Time Stone, he still wants to suffer for it. He’s lived millions of lives, died millions of times, seen millions of futures, and it still hurts that the choice was on his shoulders. He’s seen the pain and grief in the eyes of everyone around him, seen the judgement in their glances, and he doesn’t blame them. _He_ made this choice, no one else, and the guilt is eating him alive. He needs to atone for that, and what he’s doing now is a damn good start.

“You understand that you’re interfering, yes?” a voice says from behind him.

Stephen doesn’t startle, just keeps walking and walking and walking in this barren world, and replies quietly, “I’m very good at interfering. I’m not planning on changing anything, and would you let me even if I was?”

There’s a moment of quiet, save the wet footfalls of Stephen’s boots and his even breaths, and then Warlock asks, “Then why do you come to this place?”

Stephen’s feet leave the shallow water in exchange for the dry, sandy shoreline, eyes taking in the expanse of silent desert and savannah in front of him. He’s thankful for the spell on his boots even more now that he’s on dry land, and leaves it intact in order to have more stable footing on the dunes as he responds, “Closure. Absolution. For both of us.”

“He knows, Sorcerer Supreme,” Warlock says. “He understands the sacrifice that he made, and understands the role everyone played. I do not believe he is happy, but he has accepted his fate. Do not give him hope where there is none.”

Stephen resists the urge to spin around and shake Adam Warlock like a ragdoll because he needs to play nice here. It’s necessary to not antagonise him needlessly, not when Stephen needs something that only Warlock can grant.

“Come, this way,” Warlock says, finally stepping ahead of Stephen though his feet do not touch the sand. “The sooner you get your closure, the sooner you can stop disturbing the peace of this realm.”

Stephen follows Warlock without replying, watching the dim red light turn his bright blond hair into strands of sharp vermillion, and tries to steady his heartbeat. He knows that his physical form is still safely absconded in his bedroom on Bleecker Street and that it’s not a real reaction, but it still feels real, despite being muted. It’s been three years since the end of the War, three long years of celebration and battles and piecing the decaying planet back together again after so long being neglected, but the distance of time between that final battle and now hasn’t erased a lot of pain and suffering. He’s terrified that it’s all in vain, terrified of the reactions from the people he’s going to see, terrified that Warlock will deny him even despite the case he’s going to make, but he has to stay focussed and calm, _needs_ to stay in control. After all, there’s no point in fretting – he has the Time Stone, so he can always rewind and try again until he’s successful. Stephen’s always been tirelessly persistent, and he refuses to accept defeat.

In the distance, a shape comes into sight like a mirage. It’s simple and calm – only a small oasis in the middle of the endless desert – and three figures are sitting around a copse of palm trees and dry grasses. He knows who they are, knows that they were summoned by Warlock’s will alone, and his heart returns to its racing staccato, sweat dampening his palms and the skin above his upper lip. He forces himself to not wipe his hands on his robes and drag his hand through his hair, nervous ticks that will only give away how apprehensive he is, and by the time he can make out the individual features of his peers, he feels overly damp despite the lack of temperature.

They stop right in front of the figures, Warlock taking a seat on the grasses next to a small pond of red-tinted water, and Stephen swallows, trying to get his thoughts in order so he can speak coherently. His hands are shaking, both from the nerve damage that he feels even in an astral form and from nerves, and he has the sudden urge to start pacing. He refrains, despite the itch, and swallows again, opening his mouth to speak to his companions.

Except Tony gets there first.

“Hey Doc,” he says, looking fit and healthy ( _not half-charred and lifeless, red- and yellow-tinted eyes bulging out of socket and blood seeping from his wounds sluggishly as his heart fails, so quiet and haunted as he of-so-slowly finds rest from the agony in his broken body_ ), but there’s an edge of desperation to his eyes, and Stephen doesn’t even have the chance to wonder why before Tony’s letting it all out. “Morgan...how is she? Is she alive, happy? C’mon, you’ve gotta know. I don’t need to know what’s happening on the other side, or how everything is, not even Pep or Peter, I—I just— _please_.”

Stephen feels a bit of tension leave his shoulders and he replies quietly, “She’s doing well, Tony. She’s seven now, and apparently quite the firecracker, smart as a whip and with a streak of mischief a mile wide, just like her father.”

Tony laughs, wet and harsh even as he sinks to his knees in clear, bone-deep relief, and he whispers in a croak, “Thank you. _Thank you_.”

“Clint? What about Laura and the kids?” asks Natasha, green eyes big and damp, and she steps over to Tony to rest a hand in his hair, stroking through the strands in absent comfort as if they’ve done this a thousand times. They probably have, stuck in the Soul Realm for all eternity, forced to simply exist without form or reason, without purpose.

“Good. Pardons came fairly quick, but he opted out of joining the Avengers once again except under extenuating circumstances,” Stephen explains. “They seem to be happy and at peace, and I can think of no better life for them. I know your little namesake is deep in cahoots with Morgan, as they’re always hotwiring something or another. It drives Pepper and Clint insane.”

Tony laughs, even as he begins to sob with his face buried in his hands, and Natasha drops to her own knees, wrapping her arms gingerly around him. “Good for them,” she teases. “Nothing better than having your own personal Stark to make things interesting. Or outrageously dramatic.”

Stephen smiles, a bit weakly but honest, and turns to Gamora. “Your family is well. They check in frequently, and are keeping in high spirits. Thor’s with them, and from what I hear around the universe, they’re causing mayhem as to be expected.”

Gamora smirks, though her own eyes are wet with moisture, and she rubs her arms with the palms of her hands as if she’s cold. “That’s a massacre waiting to happen. I’m surprised that Peter hasn’t thrown him overboard yet.”

“I’m sure he’s tried,” Stephen admits honestly, “but Thor’s a tough one when he’s motivated. They...have a lot in common.”

Her face stays mostly impassive but Stephen can physically feel the pain, which is somewhat surprising. He’s not naturally empathetic, and he’s not using any spells to be so, so he figures it’s part of the Soul Realm. He’s torn from that brief train of thought when she asks calmly, “Why are you here?”

“Ah, that is the question,” Warlock chimes, fingers tapping against a knee. “I cannot let them go, and I know you know this.”

“Your peaceful existence was decimated when Thanos destroyed the stones,” Stephen says, fighting to keep his own voice calm. “If it hadn’t been for the sacrifice of these three individuals, you would still be lost, you and all the people that have been claimed by the Soul Stone.”

“Should I help all of them leave this realm then?” Warlock argues evenly, betraying none of his emotions. Stephen sees the others stiffen from the corner of his eyes, eyes widening with the sudden possibility of freedom, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the man who was originally gifted the Stone by the powerful High Evolutionary.

“That is not my decision, and would likely consume a significant amount of power,” Stephen replies. “I am only interested in these three, to put them back where they rightly belong for the coming conflicts of this universe. We cannot do it without them.”

“Have you even asked them if they want to fight?” Warlock questions, a twinge of sardonic amusement in his tone. “This realm is peaceful, if a bit lonely without their loved ones, and returning would only lead to strife and further grief. Would it not be kinder to let them rest?”

“I don’t have to ask them,” Stephen says. “Their loved ones are under constant threat – do you not think that they would suffer through anything to keep those people safe? All three of them have already made their sacrifice _for_ those loved ones, and they will continue to fight on the side of life until they are unable to do so.”

“You act like there is a great calamity coming. What do you know?” Warlock demands.

Stephen takes a deep breath and says with as much flatness as he can muster, “Galactus, Adam. He’s on the move.”

Gamora inhales sharply as Natasha says, “Who is that? What are we facing here?” It’s comforting to hear, as if it’s already been decided that Warlock will help release them and she’ll be joining some unknown fight. He shakes his head, silently asking her to ask questions later and opting instead to focus on Warlock, who looks pale and troubled. He knows that Warlock has experience with the Devourer, but the system containing Earth hasn’t faced such a threat before. The Infinity Stones and Thanos had been mere child’s play in comparison, and yes, Stephen needs to atone for his actions during the War, but Earth needs defenders too and besides, Tony Stark is a man that Earth needs. Between him, Reed Richards, and Bruce Banner, they cover every specialty and science known to man, and Stephen knows that Earth desperately needs that to face the coming threat.

“I cannot create bodies, Sorcerer Supreme,” Warlock says eventually.

Instantly, Stephen retorts, “You don’t have to.” There’s a beat of silence, one of Warlock’s eyebrows quirking up in a silent inquiry and slight incredulity, and Stephen swallows once again before he says quietly, “I am the master of the Time Stone. I retrieved all of the bodies and, with the help of select individuals who I entrusted to keep silent, utilised both magic and Tony Stark’s modified Extremis to repair the soulless bodies before putting them into cryo. Putting their souls back into their own bodies is less troublesome than corpses.”

“Pepper...” Tony whispers, jaw dropped and looking horrified.

Stephen understands where Tony’s head’s at, so he explains as gently as he can, “I wouldn’t have told even her, but I needed the Extremis, and honestly, I would not want to be on her murder list if this does work and she wasn’t in the loop. I made sure to emphasise that this was a gamble and might not come to fruition, so she has no exuberant hope for your return, and I can assure you that your daughter has not been made aware of any remote possibility.”

“My God,” Gamora says almost silently. “This is actually possible.”

“Theoretically, yes,” Stephen says. “I’ve done the research and he—” Stephen gestures to Warlock, who looks carefully expressionless. “—is capable of it even without my assistance.” Stephen takes a deep breath and says with heavy finality, “ _Adam_. I need them. This universe needs them. You have to help us or Galactus will devour us all. You know what he’s capable of, and you know the stakes here.”

There is nothing but silence, and then Warlock seems to steel himself as he says, “Alright, Stephen. But I’m coming with you.”

* * *

Tony opens his eyes.

Everything is stiff, which he supposes he should’ve expected considering that he was frozen for over three years, but ultimately he’s unconcerned in the wake of everything else. In his immediate vision, blurry as it is, he can see Pepper and Happy, Peter and Harley, and a tall, young girl with his own brown eyes and dark hair, a wide grin on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks. She’s beautiful and perfect, his precious little angel, and all he can do is reach helplessly towards her despite his shaking, weak arms, his own tears already starting to trickle down his face.

She rushes towards him despite a few half-hearted words to _take it easy_ , but he doesn’t care that she’s crushing him with the strength of her hug if it means that he can hold her, doesn’t care that he can feel his hospital gown growing wet and sticky with mucus and tears if he can bury his own face into her sweet-smelling hair, doesn’t care that she’s sobbing so loudly that it hurts his ears if he can just cherish the fact that he gets to hear her voice again, slightly different with age but just as precious and familiar. He loves this tiny little human, his flesh and blood and soul and heart, with every iota of his person, and it is an immeasurable gift to be able to hold her once again, to hear her choke out _I love you daddy I’ve missed you so much_ though the tears.

He weeps and whispers soft words into his daughter’s hair, and _breathes_.

* * *

“Hey stranger,” he hears echo into the empty front from of the Sanctum.

Stephen recognises the voice but doesn’t stop his reading until he gets to the end of the chapter, humming slightly under his breath as he closes the finished book. He glances up, taking in the very-much-alive man standing a bit awkwardly in the door, fiddling with a phone in his hand like he’s itching to tear it apart for something to do.

“Tony,” Stephen greets in return, pleased when his tone remains calm despite the nerves in his stomach. They’ve interacted a lot over the past year, coming up with plans for Galactus while managing the veritable madhouse that is _Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff Are Alive!_ He’s seen Tony in so many ways (a father, a friend, and champion...a complete arsehole) and he understands why people are always saying that Anthony Stark is a conundrum. He’s the type of man that can only be loved or hated, no grey area in between, and _oh_ , Stephen loves him. Desperately so.

It’s only gotten worse since everything settled, because he knows it’s not appropriate nor is it the right time. They’re preparing for the next conflict, and despite a year to come to terms with it, Pepper is still married to Happy Hogan now, and Stephen knows that Tony’s both gutted and happy that she’s moved on with a great man who’s treated his daughter right. And regardless, Stephen did send Tony on a suicide mission, and no amount of casual flirting or playfully sarcastic banter can erase that, he knows. Stephen’s going mad with want, but he’s not an idiot – he hasn’t got a chance with Tony and he’s accepted that.

Tony huffs out a laugh, then says without fanfare, “If you’d told me that I was going to die during that fight, I would’ve still done it, y’know. I had my priorities, and my priority was Morgan and Pepper. I’d do it again, even if I hadn’t gotten out of that boring-as-hell desert.”

“I couldn’t take that chance,” Stephen replies. He hadn’t even thought to look at a future where he had told Tony how it had to end, because they hadn’t had enough time when Stephen had had the answer already. He doesn’t think Tony’s lying, honestly – he’s self-sacrificing and pure-hearted like that, despite his reputation – but it doesn’t really matter anymore.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony sighs, then leans against the Cauldron of the Cosmos with a smirk on his face.

“Stop it,” Stephen drawls, fighting a smile.

“Make me,” Tony parries back, grin widening and a spark of mischief in his eyes.

Stephen’s entire body throbs with want, and even as he’s fighting the urge to rise from his chair and pull Tony against his own body instead of the cauldron, he hears himself saying lightly, “And how would you like me to do that?”

“Well,” Tony says airily, eyes rolling up to the ceiling as if thinking, “you could send me to an alternate dimension, but that would null all your efforts to bring me back to life and where would you all be without my sparkling personality and charm. You could also portal me to Tasmania, but that just seems needlessly dramatic and a tad bit rude. Personally, though, I vote for dinner. Le Bernardin, eight o’clock sharp? I’d hate to miss our reservation, and God knows you’re dragging your feet on asking me out yourself. Idiot.”

Stephen stares at him for a long time, mouth open and eyes wide, and then he replies quietly, “Sounds like a date.”

Tony grins.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also read on tumblr.](https://meshkol.tumblr.com/post/184473677854/title-souls-for-bargain-pairingsrelationships)


End file.
